


The Sound of Silence

by RuinNine



Series: Cinema Verse [8]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Christmas, Family Feels, Half-AU, M/M, Prequel, Secrets, Siblings, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuinNine/pseuds/RuinNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opening up to Fernando is still not coming easily to Sergio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm late with this. Sorry. xD A happy and healthy year to everyone! I can't stop writing for this verse, it's like a bloody drug! I have some smaller ficlets in the cinema verse pipeline too (or more like written already, but unedited) and I may start posting them if anyone's interested. Let me know if you want more. ;)  
> Credits for getting this out right and proper are going, as usual, to the amazing lumaste! What would I do without you, honey? :D
> 
> @Everyone who's waiting for a new chapter of "Survivor": It _is_ coming, I'm not abandoning this fic! But I had new ideas for the ending, and it will take a moment for me to get that done. I'm really sorry for the delay, but be assured it's gonna be there ASAP.

— † —

 

 

“You're joking, aren't you?”

 

“Well...”

 

Apparently not. Fernando groans loudly and covers his face with his hands. “You are unbelievable.”

 

It makes sense that Sergio waited until it was his turn to drive before he dropped that bomb on him. He probably suspected Fernando would pull over, have a fit and then turn back towards Madrid as soon as he'd calmed down enough to navigate the car through the ice and snow outside without crashing them. On Christmas Eve, no less. Sergio clings to the wheel as if it were a lifeline, and Fernando can see how hard it is for him to keep his mouth shut _and_ focus on driving. 

 

He drops his hands and sighs. “Pull over, will you?”

 

Sergio gives him a quick once-over. “You're not going to walk out on me, right?”

 

“Where would I go?” He shakes his head at his insane boyfriend and then points at a farm track coming up. “There. Just... pull over.” 

 

Sergio does as he's told, and then he's sitting there, still as a statue, waiting for the impending lecture. Fernando lets him stew in his guilt for a moment longer before he takes pity on him. “So... Your family doesn't know I'm coming, yes?” Sergio mutely shakes his head. That can only mean one thing. Which is... pretty bad. “Don't tell me they don't even know we're together.” 

 

Again, a shake of the head, and Sergio visibly shrinks in his seat. Another thought crosses Fernando's mind, and he closes his eyes for a second. It's just as ridiculous as it is insane, and he can't believe it even crossed his mind. But he can't unthink it now, and he decides to check just to be sure. “Your family _does_ know you're gay, though, right?”

 

Sergio cringes. “Well...” 

 

“If that's all you're going to say, I swear I _will_ walk out on you.”

 

“It just...” Sergio shrugs and gives him a pleading look. “It never came up.”

 

_No way._ “You want me to believe your parents never asked if there was anyone you wanted to bring to the next family gathering? Seriously?”

 

“I always told them I wasn't ready to settle yet. Live life to the full, and all that.”

 

Fernando can't believe his ears. It's like he's caught in one of those terrible coming-of-age flicks. Sergio, though... Sergio is the unlikeliest protagonist he's ever met. “Jesus Christ, Sergio. I was convinced you were already out. I mean, you know I understand you can't be _officially_ out, but you and your family, you're pretty close, aren't you? And now you're telling me it _never_ came up?”

 

“Okay,” Sergio says, and raises his hands in surrender. He looks absolutely miserable, and Fernando thinks it serves him damn right. “I _actively_ avoided that topic. There, happy?”

 

His voice has shifted to defensive anger, the only way he knows how to deal with moments of insecurity – which, to be fair, he doesn't encounter often. Now that Fernando thinks about it, it's probably the only topic he isn't straightforward about. It must be killing him, used to head-on – and sometimes cruel – honesty as he is, to hide that huge part of his personality, especially from his family that is just as important to him as football, maybe even more. 

 

“You think they might not take it well?”

 

René certainly didn't. He is professional about it, hiding his true thoughts behind smiles and pleasantries, but Fernando knows he is worried sick about his brother and the nose dive his career would inevitably suffer if their relationship were to hit the tabloids. He watches Fernando like a hawk whenever they meet, and he's certain it may take a while for René to relax around him – if he ever will. Sergio is trying hard to laugh it off, to pretend he doesn't care, but he can fool neither of them with that kind of bravado. 

 

Sergio is well aware of the threat Fernando poses to the life of a famous footballer he has fought so hard to build. He just decided – for whatever reason, Fernando is still trying to figure it out – to ignore it, and in that case, Fernando appreciates his well-known stubbornness. If he hadn't been so adamant about giving them a chance, it would've already ended in pain and heartbreak. Therefore, Fernando is content with what he has, and he's already come to terms with the fact that René will never trust him, not entirely at least. As long as he has Sergio, that doesn't matter (okay, maybe it does, but Fernando is determined not to let it sully their relationship – which is going great so far (except for the bomb-dropping in inappropriate moments)). 

 

“I don't know,” Sergio admits, and his voice has lost the irritated edge. He picks at an invisible crumb on the steering wheel. “I have no idea how they will take it.”

 

“Okay.” Reaching over, Fernando takes his hand and squeezes it gently. It's a helpless show of support, but he's certain it's no use to let Sergio see the inner turmoil his confession has caused. He doesn't need Fernando's insecurity on top of his own. (And since meeting Sergio, Fernando has been getting better at controlling panic-induced hyperventilating, too.) “I see. But it probably would've been better to ease them into it instead of presenting them with a boyfriend on Christmas Eve.”

 

“It was a terrible idea, I know that. But every time I tried to talk to you about it, I couldn't make myself do it, and... well... now is the worst possible moment, I guess.”

 

_No shit._ “No,” Fernando objects. “That would've been _after_ presenting the boyfriend.” _Good save._

 

“Shit.” Sergio pulls his hands through his hair and makes the expensive haircut stick out in every direction. “I know. I know I fucked up.”

 

“Yeah, you did.” There's a smile in his voice, and all of a sudden, Sergio looks so hopeful despite the situation it makes him laugh. “It's surprisingly cute, though. Because it's so rare.”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

“No, really. I could get used to this.” He can't help but laugh again when Sergio pouts, yet he sobers up quickly. The situation they're about to plunge into head-first isn't something to be laughed at. The last thing he wants is to cause any upset between Sergio and his family. “Tell you what. If you want to pull through, I'm in. But if you want to go home and reconsider your coming out plans, that's fine by me, too.”

 

Sergio doesn't reply immediately. He stares out of the windshield into the darkness, and Fernando can actually see the battle he's fighting with himself reflected in his expression. It is indeed rare to see Sergio so unsure about what to do, but Fernando knows he can't help him out here, because he didn't have to deal with a painful coming out. His parents had always had a hunch, and when he brought home his first boyfriend, they hadn't batted an eyelid. They had welcomed Sergio into the family with the same sincere openness (even though Fernando's father is prone to some Madridista ribbing, which Sergio never tires to pay back in Rojiblanco jabs), and it occurs to him now how much it must have hurt Sergio after all, that he couldn't have it with his own parents. 

 

“I just don't know... If it doesn't go well...”

 

Fernando squeezes his hand again and then places it on the gear stick. “Let's find out.”

 

His smile is a bit forced, but Sergio doesn't comment on it as he starts up the car and pulls back onto the road. 

 

 

— † —

 

 

The first impression Fernando gets of Sergio's family is: they're _loud._ And they're _many._

 

Christmas with his own parents has always been a quiet affair. Both his siblings have their own families to look after on Christmas Eve, and they all meet up on Christmas Day for dinner at his parents' house. They talk, they exchange the latest gossip, and sometimes, they even watch a movie his dad insists is the best he's ever seen. It's quite orderly and smooth – some people would probably call it boring.

 

Sergio's family, however... Fernando believes the woman opening the door to be one of Sergio's numerous aunts (it's not like he memorized the pictures Sergio showed him once during a rare spell of homesickness), but he doesn't get the name Sergio greets her with. It is drowned in the squeal she lets loose when she recognizes Sergio, and his boyfriend lights up like a Christmas tree and chatters happily with her as she pulls him into a crushing hug, his voice easily matching her volume. 

 

Done with the reunion, the woman eyes Fernando expectantly, and he shyly offers his hand. “Hello. I'm Fernando.”

 

She clearly waits for an explanation, but he doesn't give one (they didn't talk about how they would do it, after all, but he's pretty sure the doorstep scenario isn't exactly what they had hoped for), so she simply ignores his hand and pulls him into an equally tight hug. “Merry Christmas, Fernando. I'm Jimena.” She pulls back, but doesn't let go of him, instead dragging him into the house by his elbow. “Come on in, it's freezing outside!”

 

Sergio chuckles at the look of panic he gives him (not so good at controlling it now), and he's decidedly more relaxed now that they finally arrived. It seems like the first hurdle is already taken, but Fernando doesn't have the time to be relieved. Before he can utter a word of protest and/or take a look at the interior of the house, Jimena has already hauled him through the first open door in the hall, where Sergio's whole family is crammed into the living room, next to the most colourful Christmas tree Fernando has ever seen and a line of tables running down the length of the room. 

 

“Listen, everybody! This is Fernando. He's with Sergio.”

 

That's a very ambiguous way to put it. It's his last thought before his brain gets overwhelmed by a flood of names and faces and 'welcome's and 'Merry Chrismas's, and when he's finally through with shaking hands and getting hugged, he's suddenly sitting at the table, squeezed in between Teresa, Sergio's grandma from his mother's side, and Jimena, and nodding along to a story about how Sergio set the Christmas tree on fire when he was six years old. Jimena's husband (Alfonso? Alfredo?) is butting in now and then from across the table, and Fernando has trouble keeping up.

 

His mind is ablaze with the noise and all the information that has been stuffed into his brain in this short amount of time, and he has almost forgotten why Sergio was so upset on their way over when his boyfriend appears at his elbow at that exact moment and leans down to whisper into his ear. 

 

“My parents are in the kitchen. Want to meet them?”

 

Oh. Right. “Sure.”

 

Sergio smiles sweetly at his grandma and his aunt and pulls him out of his chair. “Excuse us, ladies.”

 

They weave their way through the knots of people, dodging offers of conversation left and right and almost falling over Sergio's niece who is busy cuddling with someone's dog on the floor. When they finally reach the deserted hallway, Fernando immediately pulls Sergio to a stop and takes a deep breath. He's aiming for something like 'Why didn't you warn me?', but all he manages is: “My God.”

 

“I know,” Sergio says quietly, almost guiltily. “I know, I know. It's not what you're used to, but I promise it isn't as bad as it looks.” Fernando can't even answer, since his brain is still stuck on meltdown, and Sergio checks the hallway left and right before pressing a soothing kiss to his cheek. “You're doing great, though. I could tell.”

 

“You left me there!”

 

“No, I didn't. I was watching out for you the whole time. And come on, it's not like I let them eat you alive. They're just a talkative bunch, that's all.” He quells Fernando's protest with another kiss. “Now. My parents.”

 

The cheerful façade crumbles a little at the last word, and Fernando can see the panic beneath, the insecurity and the fear. It reminds him that this isn't about him. “Alright.” He gently straightens a few stray strands of Sergio's hair and gives him an encouraging nod. “Lead the way.” 

 

Sergio returns the nod and then turns to guide him down the hall, past the dozens of picture frames lining the bright yellow walls. Fernando makes a mental note to have a closer look later, especially at those showing Sergio at various stages, in case the coming moment of truth turns out well and there is a later to fall back on. If not – he doesn't even want to think about the 'if not'. 

 

Sergio pauses in front of a closed door, but before Fernando can reach out to soothe him, he has already straightened his back and pushed it open. Again, the noise is overwhelming, as well as the immense number of different smells. The kitchen isn't as crowded as the living room, but it's pretty small, and the four people rushing back and forth between the stove, the table and the cupboards covering the walls make it impossible to cross the threshold. Fernando knows René, of course, and his wife Vania, who he has met once before. And Sergio has enough pictures of his parents strewn about his own house that it doesn't take him long to recognize them, too. 

 

His mother is stirring something in a pot on the stove, and judging by the state of her apron, she's been cooking all day. Sergio's father is standing in a corner, drinking wine and watching the chaos with an amused, but also very laid-back expression. It immediately reminds Fernando of his own parents. His father isn't allowed near the stove, especially not when there are guests in the house, and it's not like he cares, either. 

 

“Hey,” Sergio calls out and gives an awkward wave when all four of them turn around. “Merry Christmas!”

 

His mother immediately lets go of the spatula and weaves across the kitchen to engulf her son in the trademark Ramos family bear hug, showering him with kisses and exclamations of 'You're late!' and 'We needed your help!', but also so much love that Fernando has to avoid his eyes, because their reunion suddenly feels way too private. René strolls over, clapping his brother on the back in passing, and offers his hand to Fernando.

 

“So,” he murmurs and leans against the door frame. “Big day?”

 

It's obvious he knows what Sergio is about to do, but Fernando can't tell if René supports the idea or not. “You think he shouldn't?”

 

“Oh, no.” René raises his hands in defence. “I've been pushing him for years, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.” He hesitates for a moment. “It'll be fine, you'll see.”

 

“How can you-”

 

Fernando is interrupted by Sergio's father, who has already finished greeting his son and is sidling up to them with a curious smile. “Fernando, right?” He reaches out to shake his hand. “I'm Jose, Sergio's father.”

 

Fernando almost says 'I know', but opts for a respectful nod in the end. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

 

“Pff, no, no. None of that here. It's Christmas after all.” Jose grins as he waves his glass of wine at him. “Sergio didn't tell us he was going to bring someone.”

 

“Well-”

 

“Jose! Don't embarrass him!” Sergio's mother saves him without even knowing it when she pushes at her husband until he moves away from the door, half chuckling and half grumbling. She pulls Fernando in for a kiss on the cheek and then pats his chest, right above his heart. “Feel right at home, darling, alright?”

 

Fernando clears his throat that's suddenly too tight. “Thank you.”

 

“Mom?” Sergio winds an arm across her shoulders and trades a meaningful glance with Fernando. “This is Fernando. Fernando, this is my mother-”

 

“Paqui!”

 

Vania's panicked shout has them all whipping around. Smoke is rising from the stove where she is trying to stem the flood of tomato sauce dripping over the edge of the forgotten pot and shut off the gas feed at the same time. Paqui makes a tiny noise of horror and quickly rushes over to help her. “Sergio, open the window, will you?”

 

Sergio immediately complies and then watches the rescue attempt for a moment before he decides to try again. “Mom?”

 

“Not now, sweetie. We'll talk later, okay?” She pats his head and then waves her hands at the men still lounging around in the door way. “You're distracting us. Shoo! Sergio, tell Jimena I need her in the kitchen.”

 

Sergio looks like he's about to protest, but she's already dived back into the mess on the stove, and he gives up with a sigh. “Okay.”

 

“Don't take it too hard, Son,” Jose offers as they traipse down the hall to the living room like a pack of scolded dogs. “A piece of advice for the future: never talk back to your woman on Christmas Eve. Not a good idea.”

 

Sergio gives a pained laugh and raises a hand to rub at his neck. “Actually, Dad, I don't think I-”

 

“Uncle Sergio, hurry up!” Sergio's niece comes hurtling down the hall and takes his hand, pulling him into a run. “You're going to miss Fernando's 'Christmas Carol'!”

 

Fernando starts at the sound of his name, but it turns out Sergio has a great-uncle of the same name who reads a short version of Dickens' “Christmas Carol” every Christmas. It has already begun when they enter, and Jose quietly ushers him over to a pair of armchairs in the back. Apart from laughter and a bit of heckling now and then, the room is completely silent as everyone watches with rapt attention. 

 

Fernando has to admit that his namesake is doing a fantastic job, imitating different voices and pulling an impressive range of faces, and he finds himself thoroughly enjoying the story. Mid-way through, he spots Sergio in the midst of the children who're sitting on the floor in a semi-circle. He's holding his niece on his lap, and watching his great-uncle with a dreamy expression that suggests he feels like a ten-year-old again. Fernando can't suppress a smile at the sight. He's so enamoured he almost jumps out of his skin when the audience claps and hollers, signalling the end of the story.

 

“I love that tradition!” Jose gives him a content smile and takes a sip of his wine. “How did you meet Sergio, if I may ask? Job-related?”

 

“Not exactly.” 

 

“But you're working in football?”

 

Fernando ponders lying for a moment, but that's a ridiculous thought of course. So he simply goes with the truth. “No. I'm running a cinema, specialising in classics. Family business.”

 

Jose's eyebrows almost meet his hairline. “A cinema? I wasn't aware Sergio was interested in old movies.”

 

“Well, he isn't, actually.” Damn. His answers are clearly confusing Jose, and it looks like he's gearing up for another question that will hit too close to home, and Fernando finally allows himself a moment of panic. “But he-”

 

“Alright, everyone!” Again, Paqui to the rescue. Fernando tries not to look too relieved. “Find a seat. Dinner's ready!”

 

He winds up in his old seat between Jimena and Teresa. There's half the table between him and Sergio, and the whole length between him and Sergio's parents, and if he's honest with himself, that's the best solution for now. The constant tiptoeing around why Sergio brought him over for Christmas and who he is is absolutely exhausting, not to mention the chattering habits of the Ramos family. It's not like one of them tells a story and the others listen. They interrupt, they add missed details, they start a completely different story out of the blue – and all of that without lowering their voices. By the end of the admittedly excellent dinner, Fernando can't move anymore and his ears are ringing. He's stopped taking part in the conversations half an hour ago, and is only listening half-heartedly now. 

 

“Fernando?”

 

At first, he doesn't react, because most people around here mean Sergio's great-uncle when they say 'Fernando' and he has given up responding to his name a while ago. But then the caller gently shakes him by the shoulder, and he straightens his back in surprise. “Sorry?”

 

“Fernando,” Paqui tries again, and the smile on her face is so Sergio-like that he's distracted once more. “Would you like a refill of dessert?”

 

Fernando can't keep in the “Oh God.”, followed by an embarrassed chuckle. “I swear, your dinner was absolutely delicious, but I'm afraid I won't be able to eat anything for the next three days.”

 

“Alright, darling. You're having fun, though?” He hurries to nod, and she turns to her sister. “You treat him nicely, yes? So he'll want to come back.”

 

Fernando is so busy choking on plain air that he doesn't realize Sergio is right behind him before his boyfriend rests his hands on his shoulders. “I was hoping you'd say that, Mum, because-”

 

He should've expected something to go wrong right in that moment, and he almost laughs out loud when it does. Whatever Sergio was going to say is lost in the commotion at the other end of the living room where the dog is digging into the Christmas tree with gusto, all the while yapping happily. Paqui is already half way down the line of tables, shouting orders to grab the animal, and Fernando cranes his neck so he can look up at Sergio's frustrated face.

 

“I think it's funny.” Sergio shoots him a nasty glare. “No, seriously.” He pushes his boyfriend down onto Teresa's deserted chair. “It's like a movie.”

 

Sergio sighs and pulls a face at him. “No job talk during the holidays.”

 

Fernando chuckles and pats his knee. “We're staying the night, right? We can wait until this ruckus is over.”

 

“Yeah...” Sergio doesn't look convinced, but more like he's dying to lean forward and curl up in Fernando's lap. He doesn't, though, and Fernando is a little disappointed. Just a little. “Good idea.”

 

 

— † —

 

 

The ruckus goes on until half past one in the morning, and by the end of it, Fernando is nowhere near ready to tackle any kind of serious conversation, let alone a coming out. He hasn't enjoyed a minute of silence in the past five hours, and his ears have decided to save themselves the trouble and stopped picking up words a while ago. Sergio wandered off to help clearing the table shortly after (Paqui actually swatted at his hands when Fernando tried to help too, and pushed him down onto the couch with a stern command not to move), so Fernando is working hard to keep awake all by himself. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree aren't helping, and when he stifles yet another yawn, they blur together into a blinding mass as tired tears rush to his eyes. 

 

“Fernando?”

 

He blinks the tears away and pushes himself up straight, and slowly but surely, Paqui's friendly face is swimming into view. “Sorry, I almost fell asleep.” He only realizes then that it's suspiciously quiet in the living room, and they're the only ones left. “Oh.” So much for _almost_ falling asleep. “What did I miss?”

 

“Nothing important.” Paqui smiles and perches on the armrest. “Just the usual good-bye tumult. I had to promise them to invite you for next year, so they wouldn't come wake you up.” 

 

“That's, ah, very kind of you,” Fernando forces out, wishing Sergio would make one of his magical sudden appearances. His mother and her hints, conscious or not, are freaking him out. “I'll keep it in mind.”

 

Paqui winks at him. “You better.” She stands and motions for him to follow. “The boys are in the kitchen, but if you like, I'll show you the way to your room. You look like you're not up for a nightcap.”

 

“Sure.”

 

'His' room is actually Sergio's old room, and it's exactly how Fernando imagined it. Football posters cover every inch of the walls, and they're littered with entrance tickets to football and bullfighting, streamers of Sergio's youth teams and collector cards. An old guitar is leaning against a shelf that is groaning under the weight of CDs, DVDs, books and a few trophies. Beside the bed and the wardrobe, there's no room for a desk, and Fernando can only take one step forward away from the threshold before his knees knock against the bedframe. 

 

It may be tiny, but it's got 'home' written all over it.

 

“Wow,” he breathes and can't suppress a fascinated chuckle. “This is so him.”

 

“Isn't it?” Paqui's voice is just as soft as his, and also proud as only a mother can be. Fernando quickly turns away from peering at the contents of the shelf, an embarrassed smile pulling at his mouth, but Paqui waves him on. “I'm sure he wouldn't mind.”

 

For a minute or so, they examine the shelf and the memorabilia on the walls in comfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Fernando has never before seen the childhood realm of any of his boyfriends (not that there had been many), and he finds it is a very comforting experience. The room is just as honest as Sergio, there are no hiding places, no secret drawers. Everything is there for everyone to see, his heart laid bare for anyone who cares. A sudden surge of fondness piles up in his stomach on top of all the affection he has already gathered for Sergio, and he smiles to himself as he runs his fingers along Sergio's memories, storing them away to share with him in a quiet moment.

 

Fernando is just trying to decipher the engraving on the trophy of a flamenco competition when Paqui clears her throat behind him, and he turns to find her looking at him with an oddly anxious expression. It tears him out of his comfy mood as it dawns on him what she is going to say. _Sergio, where the hell are you?!_

 

“I hope you will forgive me, but I have to ask... René told me he's met you a few times before, but Sergio never mentioned your name, and yet you seemed so close, and...”

 

She trails off, desperately searching for words that won't insult him or cross a line in case her suspicions aren't confirmed, and he decides to take pity on her. “You want to know if we're together?”

 

Relief brightens her face, but he can tell she is also afraid of the answer. A heavy knot tightens in his heart, but as much as he wishes someone would come and interrupt just like all the other times before, he knows he can't keep this from her. Not when she is asking him straight on. (Even though his heart is fit to burst in his chest, it's beating so fast.) “Yes, we are. I'm sorry you have to find out this way. To be honest, I didn't even know he hadn't told you before he confessed on our way over.”

 

Paqui closes her eyes, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, and Fernando holds his breath, unsure whether he should play it down or soothe her or say nothing at all. “I'm so glad.”

 

_ What?  _ “Pardon?”

 

She opens her eyes again and lowers her hands to reveal a bright smile. But there are tears in her eyes, too, and Fernando doesn't know what it means. “That silly boy... He should know how much I was wishing for him to finally find someone who will care about him and look after him. Who will love him.” No words are coming to him, and he can only stare at her stupidly. Her smile widens and she slowly rounds the bed to hug him. It's not the exuberant choking he has witnessed too often today, but a careful and gentle embrace. She leaves the last inch or so to him, and he quickly and awkwardly crosses the distance. “Welcome to the family, Fernando.”

 

He's almost too stunned to speak. “Thank you,” he eventually mutters into her shoulder, and tightens the embrace before letting go. “For everything.”

 

She waves him off and then sighs. “I was hoping for grandchildren, though.”

 

That startles a laugh out of him, but he quickly swallows it back down when her mock-glare hits him. “Sorry. If that's your only concern, there are other ways.”

 

“You'd want that?” The door creaks as Sergio pushes it open and fixes him with a slightly teary-eyed stare. “With me?”

 

Paqui plants her hands on her hips, obviously ready to scold her son for eavesdropping. Sergio, however, is solely focused on him, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Fernando shrugs nonchalantly, but he makes sure to wear the most serious expression he's capable of. He wants Sergio to know he means every word. “Yeah. Why not?”

 

Paqui looks back and forth between them, her face happy and proud, and then moves towards the door. “I'll leave you to it.”

 

“Mum.” Sergio looks like he wants to add more, but he can't get a word out as the tears spill over. Paqui shushes him and pulls him into an embrace not unlike the one she gave Fernando. Sergio clings to her as if she were to disappear should he ever let go. “I'm so sorry.”

 

“You silly boy,” Paqui murmurs and rocks him gently. “My silly little boy.” She pulls away and wipes at the tears on his face. “We'll talk about it in the morning.”

 

Sergio's breath hitches, but he nods and bends down to kiss her temple. “Okay.”

 

“Good night, boys.”

 

“Good night.”

 

She disappears out the door, and the silence is suddenly overwhelming. Sergio rubs at his watery eyes with his sleeve and then turns to Fernando with a crooked grin. “Shit.” He pulls a face, but the grin doesn't waver. “That wasn't how I'd hoped this would turn out.”

 

Fernando returns the grin and opens his arms as he steps forward to meet him. “Come here, silly boy.”

 

“Don't you dare call me that-”

 

“Easy now,” Fernando admonishes and pulls him up against him. “Remember what your father said: Don't talk back on Christmas Eve.”

 

Sergio rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't make it as Fernando presses a kiss to his mouth. The tension they suffered for the past few hours drains away, and it becomes clear how much effort it actually took to be near one another without being able to touch. The kiss threatens to heat up almost immediately, but Sergio pulls back with an effort, obviously still too shaken by this crazy evening and the unexpected happy ending to engage in an impromptu make out session.

 

“I swear,” he huffs out, caught between laughter and mock annoyance. “You're like a goddamn piece of chocolate. From a professional point of view, you're on the no-go list, but I just can't resist you.”

 

Fernando only smirks at him and drops little kisses along his jaw. The relief he feels is making him silly, he knows, but he is determined to enjoy the rare moment they will have to themselves while they're here. “I'm better for your fitness, though.”

 

“Sergio?”

 

They jump apart as if hit by an electric shock, but it's already too late. The wide eyes, the disbelief on his face, his mouth open in surprise – it's clear Sergio's father saw more than they wanted him to see. It's also clear he won't take it as well as his wife. “Sergio,” he asks again, his voice soft and trailing off before he reaches the end of his son's name. “What's going on?”

 

“Dad-”

 

Jose takes a step back, his gaze flickering back and forth between Sergio and Fernando, who isn't sure whether he should try to say something smart, dissolve into thin air or call Sergio's mom for help. Paqui, however, has obviously sensed the danger already and suddenly appears at her husband's side, tugging at his sleeve and trying to calm him down with a soothing voice.

 

“Darling, come on, let the boys sleep. We agreed to talk about it in the morning.”

 

For a moment, Jose only stares at Sergio, searching his face with frantic eyes, but Fernando can't tell what he's looking for. He's not even sure what this reaction should be called. Disappointment? Disgust? Rejection? He holds his breath and prays it's neither of those. He'd never forgive himself if he were to act as a rift between father and son, and he wonders if Sergio ever would. Sergio doesn't move, though, neither away from nor closer to him, and he can't see his face. 

 

Jose exhales quickly, as if he finally reached a decision. “No. We'll talk about it now.”

 

 

— † —

 

 

Fernando has never had to take part in a police interrogation, nor in a serious talk with a schoolmaster or a supervisor, but he thinks this might be quite similar. He's sitting with Sergio on one of the couches, a good two feet between them, while Jose perches on the edge of the armchair across the coffee table, like the head of a Mafia clan, preparing to pass judgement. Paqui and René are both hovering silently on the sidelines, watching the stand-off with a body language as uneasy as Fernando himself is feeling. He doesn't know where they stand, though, not really. It's one thing to hold back and watch them closely, and another to actually speak up in their defence – which, if he's being honest, Fernando isn't sure would change anything. 

 

A timer goes off in the kitchen and Paqui hurries off to answer it. Jose doesn't flinch at the sound, but Fernando can see Sergio give a tiny start out of the corner of his eye. Still, no one says anything (and he himself certainly isn't in the position to start – not that he would know what to say anyway). Paqui returns with a few mugs of tea on a tray, and he takes it gladly when she offers one to him. The ceramic is scorching hot, but he decides to ignore it in favour of having something to stifle the nervous twitching of his hands. The adrenaline tearing through his body system has chased off every ounce of tiredness and exhaustion left. He's wide awake now, painfully aware of the tiniest of sounds around: the rustling of fabric as René fumbles with the phone in his back pocket, Paqui shifting from one foot to the other, Jose's heavy breathing.

 

Sergio, however, shakes his head and doesn't reach for the mug his mother is holding out to him. Instead, he has his fingers laced tightly together, and Fernando can see his knuckles are slowly turning white. He aches to reassure him with a touch or a few encouraging words, but he knows they're not what Sergio needs to hear right now. 

 

“So,” Jose finally breaks the uncomfortable silence. He's just taking a deep breath to continue when the front door falls shut, effectively cutting him off. Everyone trades a confused and surprised glance, but before anyone can go investigate, Sergio's sister Miriam saunters in with a big smile on her face, completely oblivious to the situation she's walking into. 

 

“Merry Christmas, everyone! Party over already? The pack is gone?”

 

She quickly and tightly hugs everyone, even her father who is awkwardly and a bit unwillingly patting her back when she bends down to pull him into an embrace. Then she turns to Fernando, who hurries to stand and abandons the tea mug on the coffee table to offer his hand. “I'm Fernando,” he says quietly, and then adds a shy “Merry Christmas.”

 

“Hi, Fernando! I'm Miriam. It's _very_ nice to meet you!”

 

She looks down at her brother and suggestively wiggles her eyebrows in a 'nice catch' gesture that has Sergio roll his eyes. It's an automatic response to years of sibling ribbing, Fernando can imagine, and he's suddenly very grateful she is there to tip the balance. He's never met her before, but he instantly takes a liking to her uncomplicated and straightforward nature. It's what he admires most about Sergio after all, and he is glad she took after his boyfriend rather than René, with his calculating gaze and careful prodding. 

 

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Miriam continues and sheds her parka with an exasperated huff. “As a nurse, you can only choose between Christmas and New Year's Eve. And I had hoped the party would still be on when I finally got to go home.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “It's a pity. I was prepared to knock back a mug of eggnog or two. Anyone want to join me? Fernando? Wanna tell me everything about how my sorry ass of a brother managed to make that catch?”

 

At the mention of her brother, she shoots Sergio a short, but quite scalding glare that tells Fernando she's not too happy to find out now, literally as the last one of the family, and that she'll have a word with him later. When she turns back to Fernando, though, her gaze is just as curious and friendly as before, and it reminds him that there was a question he hasn't answered yet. He'd really rather not. Miriam may not care about the heavy silence that fell after her bold charging into a war zone, but he definitely does.

 

“Well,” he starts off kind of wobbly, but he needn't have worried. He's immediately drowned out by Sergio and Jose, who both suddenly burst out with “You knew?!”, the first slightly offended, the latter accusing.

 

“I knew what?” It's clear as day she asks solely out of spite, and she's obviously not finished with her charade. With a slow turn in a half-circle, she takes in the seating arrangement and the dark frown on her father's face with an expression of mock surprise. “What's this tribunal about?”

 

“Miriam, please...” Jose sounds tired rather than angry, probably used to the sharp tongue of his daughter, but there's also a warning in there – which she ignores easily.

 

“Dad, you always stressed how important it was for you in our upbringing that we use our own heads, think independently, and right now, _I think_ it's the perfect day to find out my famous and incredibly lonely brother finally found someone who's willing to put up with him and his crazy circus of a life.” Despite her spiteful words, the look she gives Sergio is fond and proud. It's amazing how alike they all are when donning that look. “And I'm glad he went for it. From what I heard, he's never been happier.”

 

“Heard,” Sergio echoes incredulously. “From-” He stops himself as the answer dawns on him before he can even finish the question and he turns to grant René the full view of his betrayed glare. “You told her?!”

 

As the brothers lose themselves in a petty argument, with Miriam poking at both of them with off-hand comments, Fernando exchanges a helpless glance with Paqui. This is completely out of control, he thinks, and more than ever, he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole before Jose's gloomy glare burns a hole in his head. He risks a glance at Sergio's father and indeed catches him staring him down. It makes his heartrate skyrocket once again, but it's getting harder and harder to stay silent, and he finds himself facing a need to talk that is too powerful to resist.

 

He leans forward on the couch and relief courses through him when Jose slowly inches forward to meet him. “Mr. Ramos,” he says, so quietly that, thankfully, it flies under the radar of the still bickering siblings. “If it's exposure you fear, I can't guarantee you it won't happen. But what I can guarantee you is that we're being careful and that selling Sergio out is the last thing on my mind. However, if it's the concept of-” For a moment, he desperately searches for a good way to describe it, and Jose watching him with an unreadable expression doesn't help. “-of two men being in a relationship you don't agree with, I don't know what to say to change your mind. I'm aware it must be a shock to find out like this, but he just didn't know how to tell you and us getting together certainly came as a surprise to both of us, but-”

 

Jose finally raises a hand to quell his eventually very quick and anxious flood of words, and he suddenly looks old and frail. “We used to be close before he moved to Madrid. And now, now it's like I don't know him anymore.”

 

It's not what Fernando expected, and judging by the forlorn look on Jose's face, it seems like it's not what he wanted to confide to Fernando, either, and they sit in silence as the weight of the concession presses down on the air between them. Fernando glances over at the rest of the family who's still caught up in their heated argument, and he swallows hard. “And you think this is taking him further away from you?”

 

Jose huffs. “I don't know anything about-” He stops.

 

“Being gay,” Fernando prompts gently, and gets a sharp nod in return. It's weird, but he's back to calm and collected, now that it's just the two of them, and Fernando doesn't have to have an eye on Sergio and his pain. With just the two of them, this conversation is suddenly a lot easier to handle. “With all due respect, he doesn't expect you to.”

 

Jose picks one of the mugs off the table, carefully twirling it back and forth in his hands, and Fernando can imagine he's debating whether to continue this conversation he clearly doesn't want to have or not. And with him of all people. “Then what does he expect?”

 

Fernando isn't sure they're only talking about Sergio's messy coming out anymore, and he takes a moment to think about his answer. It feels like this is much bigger than a simple 'There's nothing wrong with being gay.' discussion. “He's constantly talking about you, you know, making plans to invite you to a game here, a few days off there. He told me you didn't like to travel, and maybe he didn't want to burden you with his expectations.” Fernando shakes his head when he catches the raw and hurt look in Jose's eyes before he blinks it away. “I don't know. I guess me being there was holding him back, too. I wasn't aware he'd kept you in the dark about us.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“How long has he kept... you from us?”

 

“Barely three months. It's still fresh.”

 

Jose shrugs and scratches at a water spot on the mug. “Looked longer to me.” There's a forgiving lilt to his voice, and his mouth pulls into a small smile when he sees Fernando's blush. “Don't listen to the ramblings of an old man, Fernando. I didn't mean to burden you with-”

 

Fernando waves him off. “No, it's fine, I-”

 

“I was just trying to understand-”

 

“I know, it's-”

 

“Would you just let me finish?!” There's no anger in there, just a tiny bit of irritation, and still Fernando quickly snaps his mouth shut and shrinks back in his seat. Dead silence is suddenly all around them, but he doesn't dare take his eyes off Jose's half-amused, half-annoyed face. “Thank you. Now, I think it's time to go to bed.” He pushes himself off the couch and gives him a stern look only fathers are capable of. “I can count on you to keep to yourself what we discussed?”

 

Fernando simply nods, but Sergio doesn't seem willing to let it go so easily. “Discuss? _What_ did you discuss?” When Fernando doesn't answer, he turns to his father. “Dad?”

 

“It's fine, son. Don't worry, we were on the same page.”

 

Sergio plants his hands on his hips, and the red spots covering his jawline indicate he's still in argument mode, and not even a stern look from his father will stop him now. “On the same... Can we talk? Just you and me?”

 

 

— † —

 

 

Fernando doesn't watch the clock tick on the wall in Sergio's bedroom, and it drives him just as crazy as it would if he did. He tried counting the tickets on the walls, reading one of Sergio's books – even sending WhatsApp messages he knows no one will answer at this hour is crossing his mind. But nothing will hold his attention for long, and instead he keeps pacing back and forth the one path he can go in this tiny room. It takes ages for Sergio to return from the talk with his father, and when he does, he looks like he's about to fall asleep on his feet. He catches Fernando, who's leaping off the bed as soon as he enters, around the waist and wastes no time to press his face against his neck, inhaling deeply. 

 

“What did he say? Sergio?” Fernando tries to push him back by the shoulders, but Sergio doesn't budge. “What is it? Was he mad?”

 

Sergio shakes his head, and then he finally pulls back. He's actually smiling, even though his eyes are tired and bloodshot. “We talked. For the first time in way too long.” He pauses, and the smile dims a bit. “He's going to be okay with... us. Eventually. It turned out this wasn't about you.”

 

Fernando decides to play dumb. He promised after all. “But?”

 

“Him and me. I think we're on the right track, though. He isn't a talker, my father. He's been sitting on many things he wanted to say, it turned out, and he...” Sergio shakes his head as he slowly pulls off his jeans, unwilling to go into the details at five in the morning. “We're cool now, I guess. My sister, though... I'm terrified of the drubbing she's going to hand to me in the morning.” He cringes when he checks the clock on the wall. “Or more like in a few hours.”

 

“I'll defend you.”

 

Sergio snorts and pulls him down onto the bed, manhandling him beneath the covers and curling up against his side. “You will not. You're just as scared of her as I am.”

 

Fernando hums and grins up at the ceiling. “I think she likes me.”

 

“They all do,” Sergio murmurs against his collarbone. “I don't know why, though. After all, I'm the catch here.”

 

Fernando ponders flicking his ear for that, but he doesn't feel like it. It's Christmas after all, and they already had to deal with enough drama to last them a few weeks at least. “You're not,” he says instead in a lazy attempt to talk back, but he doesn't really mean it, and Sergio knows that. “Your family is.”

 

And for once, Sergio doesn't disagree.

 

 

— † —

 

 

I know Christmas is already hidden beneath a new pile of work and new year's stress for most of you, but I hope this could take you back to the Christmas spirit anyway. :D Thank you very much for reading! 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on the Simon & Garfunkel song, of course. If you're interested in a fantastic cover version, try the band Disturbed. It's the best I've ever heard.


End file.
